


i didn't expect it to be this bad

by ambrosiaaftertaste



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, M/M, Mental Illness, Underage Alcohol, Underage Drug Use, Very angst, Violence, nothing in great detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambrosiaaftertaste/pseuds/ambrosiaaftertaste
Summary: Now, Gladion wasn't trying to kill himself, no. He just stopped caring if he lived or died.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write and I'm depressed. Read this and share my misery. Also here's Gladion's theme to listen while you read: https://youtu.be/yRhvdTEvqk8

Gladion remembers this feeling. Welcomes it even, familiar as it is. There comes a point where the depression that eats away at his insides is a comfort. It's a safe, steady feeling. Like the rain that is currently pouring over him. It reminds him of all those years ago, living in a mansion full of people who despised him, doing their dirty work. The ceiling leaked, grunts strung out on an assortment of chemicals, drugs, alcohol. Some passed out on the damp floor. Some running rampant from bad trips or just too fucked up. 

Guzma treated him, used him rather, as an important member of the team. Being so young and sly made him a valuable asset to the smuggling of Pokémon and human drugs constantly passing around and through Po Town. The other members treated him like a kid. That is, until, he got tired. Finally lit the end of the pipe and inhaled smoke and toxins. Finally took a shot of the vodka that made him choke at the burn in his throat and chest. And finally tie up is arm, and stick the used needle into a vein. He was young. Too young. And was drowning in a world he wasn't ready for. 

It took Type: Null dragging him away from a deal gone wrong, Pokémon out and humans with blades and bats, fighting of any and all sort, for him to realize something. Bleeding from his cuts laced over older scars from training Null, he looked into the eyes of his partner. Saw the pain reflected in the beast's orbs. The jobs, the drugs, this world he'd become a part of had hurt his most cherished Pokémon almost as much as he'd hurt himself. 

He left Team Skull later that night after a year of self destruction. He was 13 then.  
Team Skull was never a home. The Aether foundation was never a home. Gladion was homesick for a place that didn't exist. 

Now, at 25, he craves a different high of something he couldn't have. His palms are sweaty. His chest is tight. "How can feeling so empty make me feel so heavy?" He asks himself. It's just another memory for Gladion, another nightmare day dream. The pills help, not that he cares how many he swallows. One, two, five, eleven, who cares. Sometimes he hates the pills. They make him feel so dead inside. But they're the only thing that keeps the thoughts at bay. 

He stands in the streets of Iki town, crossing streets without paying attention and focusing only on the ache in his rib cage, the rain soaking his clothes and the sorrows soaking into the marrow of his bones. Why is he here again? He has a million things to do at the Aether Foundation. But there's only one thing he can think of doing.

The sky shuddered, and he raps quickly at a familiar door to a small wooden house. There are a few seconds of "Breathe. Breathe. Breathe." As the mantra in his head as he tries to calm down before the door opens to reveal a sleepy looking Hau. Gladion didn't even know what time it must have been. He would have felt bad for intruding if this hadn't been happening since they were children. 

Hau's face immediately softens and he's pulling the door open. "Pull those clothes off, you're completely soaking, Gladion. I'll bring you fresh clothes." Hau says as he pulls Gladion in from the storm and closes the door before heading to the laundry room for clothes. Gladion doesn't react other beginning to pull off his hoodie. When Hau comes back, fresh shirt and coffee in tow, he hands the items to a shirtless Gladion and sits on the couch. Gladion isn't the least bit embarrassed, having Hau seen him in more compromising positions than this. But something is different this time. 

Before Gladion can pull the shirt over his head, a warm, large hand is over his stomach. A very specific scar, to be exact. 

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong. But... but I want to know about this one."

For some time now, Gladion will just show up at Hau's house feeling upset or depressed and won't talk about why. He just lets Hau hold him, and smooth relaxed traces over his skin. Occasionally he asks about one of the scars patterned all over Gladion's skin. Gladion won't admit it, but he'd rather talk about the past then the present or future and silently appreciates it. 

"It's" Gladion starts, before realizing how gravelly his unused voice is. He clears his throat and starts again. "It's from working with Team Skull. The grunts were violent when they were drunk." 

Hau's eyes never fail to sparkle with terror and unshed tears at hearing stories from Gladion's past. Gladion doesn't mind because today, as usual, the story ends up with Hau cradling Gladion's whole body. The size difference is just perfect, in Gladion's opinion. Hau is tall and muscular now and Gladion himself is still the very lithe, thin husk he has been for years. Hau's tough fingers intertwine with Gladion's small slender ones and this is what Gladion lives for. These small moments.

The thoughts of "I don't know how to cope anymore" and "Too many things are happening" and "I'm getting worse" are silenced in these small moments. Gladion can breathe, actually feels like he can without taking up too much space in the world. 

If Gladion were to die right here in Hau's arms, well that'd just be ok.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a photo that goes along alright with it http://pu-kus.tumblr.com/post/155437388213


End file.
